The Blue Moon Cleric
by Bugoron
Summary: Bugoron Bearfang, Cleric of Selune, leaves the Church of the Moon, after hearing shocking news about his brother...of which he never believed existed.
1. Prologue

_Chapter One: Prologue_

She walked with light footsteps from the Market Square, her boots making little sound on the cobblestone below. A soft smile playing on her pale lips, she made her way west, down the busy street, past the Waterdeep Bank, past the general store, past the tailor's. Her emerald eyes shone with innocence, but were also deep with hidden knowledge, as she turned her head to look at the quaint stone buildings. These were the buildings of the Waterdeep Market, and there were many of them lining the sides of the seats. Those who passed her were more than happy to offer her a warm greeting and a 'How do you do?' as they went by. Some of the men who would walk by would offer her more attention than others, which brought out some red in her cheeks, as she would brush her hair back behind a pair of delicately pointed ears. As she made her way towards the Temple of Oghma, a small amulet she wore around her neck swayed with the motion of her walking. The amulet depicted a river being surrounded by a ring of stars, symbolic of the origin of magic, the Weave, and the Goddess of Magic, Mystra.

"Ah, here we are." Her voice sounded happy, but she was more curious than anything. She had heard someone talking about a friend of hers whom she had met some time ago. The person had said something about her friend leaving, and the emerald eyed half-elf needed to find out just what was going on. The swaying of her amulet came to a stop as he arrived at the entrance of the temple, where a rectangular board had been erected for people to post notes of importance. Her emerald eyes gazed over the board, observing the old posts that had been left there for one reason or another, until she came to a fresh piece of parchment on the board. She glanced at the writing, recognizing the slight tilt in the words that suggested it had been written with the left hand, and not the right. She knew this was the note from her friend, and so, she began to read:

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_A farewell...for now_

_For those of you who know me, I must apologize for my leaving so abruptly, but I have done so only out of necessity. I have come by some information stating that someone has been making some sort of reputation for themselves in a distant town. Moreover, they have been making this reputation under the name of "Bearfang"._

_As the last of my family, I have decided to investigate this further, to find out who is using my family name, and just what kind of reputation they are making with it._

_I have no idea what lies ahead, thus I may be gone for some time. To my friends, I say I shall miss you while I am gone._

_To my fellow followers of Selune, I deeply apologize for my hasty departure. I truly wish I could have said goodbye to all of you before I left, and I pray that things will be well with all of you, as well as the church._

_To my fiancé, I promise that I will return as soon as I can, whether my efforts are for good or ill._

_I will miss the wonderful people of this city while I am gone. May Stars guide you all, and may we meet again soon._

_Bugoron Bearfang, The Blue Moon Cleric_

The emerald eyed half-elf clutched the book she held in her grasp tightly against her side. The book was covered in symbols and runes, indicating a spellbook of a Mystran mage. She thought about her friend for a moment, how he reminded her so much of her dear older brother, Kladian, and let out a small sigh, followed by a soft smile. Quickly glancing at the note one last time, Tandria Sandail uttered the words, "May your journey be wonderful and mysterious wherever you go, Bugoron." With those words, she turned and left, meshing in with the rest of the market's crowd.


	2. The Dawn of a Moonpriest's Journey

_Chapter Two: The Dawn of a Moonpriest's Journey_

It was with light, quick steps that Bugoron Bearfang made his way from the southern gate of Waterdeep. He had left some time after posting his note to everyone back in his hometown. The sun was high in the sky today, but it was past noontime, so the priest of Selune had removed his steel helm. As he walked, he looked at the helm for a moment, noting the many dents in its top, some old, some newer, some small, small larger. I really should take this in to the armorer back at the church and get this repaired, he thought to himself. He then nodded quickly to himself, coming to a stop and slipping a leather backpack from his shoulders to store the helmet. He hastily pulled the pack back onto his back and headed off again, a look of determination and curiosity on his face. Bugoron pulled his left hand from its gauntlet, running a hand through the short-cropped hair on the left side of his head, his finger running along the tip of an ear that was slightly pointed, marking half-elven origin. He was finding the sunlight a bit too warm for his liking, so he finally gave in and found a patch of trees off the side of the road to run behind. He took his pack off once again, pulling out a blue and silver robe, and then quickly put what armor he could in the pack, hooking what wouldn't fit to the outside clasps. After changing into his robe, he felt much better under the afternoon sun, so he began back toward the road. As he approached, however, the half-elf thought he heard something from back up the road leading to Waterdeep. He waited a moment, and soon, his dark brown eyes fixed upon a covered wagon coming around a turn in the road. Bugoron smiled, and quickened his pace to the road, flagging down the driver with his hand.

The two horses, both with light brown colored hair, came to a stop in front of the half-elf. He looked up to the driver, who was sitting in front of the cloth flaps that lead inside the wagon. He was hunched over the leather reins, holding them in thick, knobby hands. He looked at Bugoron with eyes of a dull blue-grey, his brow furrowing a bit, bringing two full eyebrows close together.

"Aye, wha d'ye want?" the driver said, sounding a bit irritated. His wide nose wrinkled a bit as he watched the half-elf, waiting for his reply.

Bugoron hesitated a moment, then answered, "Good afternoon, sir, I just noticed you passing by, and I was hoping to ask you where you were headed."

The driver gave him a look, asking curtly, "Berdusk, why?"

The Moonpriest had a bad feeling about the driver's response after he gave his answer, but replied nonetheless, "I was just curious as to whether or not you had some spare room in your wagon."

The driver's brows furrowed further, and his round ears seemed to go red as he shouted back, "No passengers!"

Bugoron almost jumped back at this, but kept his composure and nodded slowly to the driver, "I understand sir, it's alright, I was just curious, sorry to bother you." The half-elf had just started to leave when he heard a high voice call out, "Here, now!" Bugoron turned around and noticed the head of a young woman pop out from between the cloth flaps. She looked over at Bugoron and said, "There's room, come back here in the back." She smiled softly at him. The priest looked at her for a moment, and then asked quizzically, "But...didn't the driver-"

The woman quickly cut him off, "Get in here before he drives off on ye, silly!" she interrupted. The driver started to protest to the young woman, but she quickly turned her gaze down at him, shaking a finger at him, "Now don't ye start, da, we got room back here, and _ye_ know it!" The woman's father grumbled a bit, then looked at Bugoron and jerked his head back toward the wagon, signaling he could climb on. The half-elf bowed quickly, "Thank you very much." He headed to the back of the wagon and got on without delay. It wasn't much sooner than when Bugoron got settled down at the side of the wagon that the horses were coaxed into moving along once again.

The woman pulled her head back inside the folds of the wagon covering and sat down with Bugoron. She smiled sweetly for a moment, then said, "Sorry about that, he gets in them cranky moods and won't hear anything from nobody except me."

The half-elf smiled back, looking at the young woman. She looked to be around her early twenties, to his reckoning. The weather had been kind to this flower, he figured, for she had blossomed into a very attractive lady. Bright golden hair hung loosely about her shoulders, framing a sweet face, with high cheeks and cheerful blue eyes. She wore a homespun dress, along with a lady's blouse, and although it was a common ensemble, she was still quite complemented in it. The blouse hugged her frame tight enough to show the curves of her sides, while the neckline was cut low, giving a generous-yet-conservative hint of an ample buxom. Bugoron looked about the wagon, noting that there were some supplies here and there. He mused to himself that if they were selling there goods, he can understand why they may have sold so much.

He brought his eyes back to the young woman's face and smiled again, "Thank you again, I appreciate your kindness, madam." The young woman giggled a bit, "_Madam_? Oh, go on, now, there's no need o' that, sir. My name's Willow, ye know, just like the tree!" She smiled happily at Bugoron. "The driver is my da, his name is Douglas, and he's a poor one for to try and have a talk with, so I'm not lyin' when I say I appreciate the company."

The Moonpriest chuckled softly at Willow's words. "Well then, if there is no need for _madam_, then there is no need for _sir_." He winked at her and continued, "Bugoron Bearfang, Blue Moon Cleric, at your service."

Willow seemed to blush a little at this, and smiled, "Pleased to meet you." She offered. Bugoron smiled back, replying, "Likewise." He watched her face redden a bit more, and saw her turn her head slightly. The half-elf noted this and mentally frowned. Willow was very nice and very attractive, yes, but Bugoron had stopped courting the day he had met his present-day fiancé, Avia, and had not started again since. He was offering her friendship, and he hoped she wasn't thinking to look for more. He quickly thought of something to say to ease the tension in the conversation. "Well then, you came from Waterdeep, I suppose, but just what were you and your father doing there?"

Willow turned back, smiling, and said, "My da and I were up selling our goods on the market, and now we're making our way back toward Shadowdale."

Bugoron let his eyes widen slightly, "From the Dalelands, then. Well now, you've made quite the journey, haven't you?"

Willow nodded, replying, "We did, but lots o' folk bought our goods for a fair price, so we're all the better for it. We'll be stopping at Berdusk to give the horses a rest for the night, and then we'll be takin' off again in the morning."

Bugoron nodded, saying, "Well, I'm glad you happened by, and thank you again for your generosity."

Willow just smiled back warmly, replying, "Don't worry about it, it's not a problem at all."

The wagon continued to rumble down the road to Berdusk. The horses' hooves thudded dully on the dirt road, Douglas could be heard cursing whenever they would bounce over a bump, and a friendly chat could be heard from within the cloth walls of the wagon as the sun made its way across the horizon to settle just above the skyline.

By the time Douglas brought the wagon to a stop, Bugoron and Willow had become oblivious to how much time had gone by, and had become very well acquainted. Bugoron had told her stories about himself and his religion, and Willow had, in return, told him about her childhood and about growing up in the Dalelands. Willow had marveled at Bugoron's stories of Selune, and adored the amulet of Her faith that hung around his neck. Numerous times, the half-elf had let her take it in her hand and look at it. It was adorned with a pair of eyes surrounded by stars, the holy symbol of Selune. Bugoron was more than happy to relate what he knew about the Moonmaiden to his new friend, and was glad to see her so excited about it. When the wagon came to a stop, though, they looked at each other for a moment, and then looked out the back flaps of the cloth covering. They were outside of a tavern in Berdusk, and the sun was on its way down past the horizon, out of sight.

Bugoron sighed slightly and said, "Well then, I guess we've arrived." Willow seemed to frown slightly and nodded slowly, "Aye, ye'd be right." The half-elf turned to regard her. He couldn't just let Willow leave in this state, so he reached up and patted her on the shoulder, saying, "I think I'll make a stop by your place when I come back through, so I can say hello, if you wouldn't mind-"

Willow had turned, her eyes wide and happy, as he cut him off before he could even finish. "Yes!" She blurted quickly, then blushed profusely, clearing her throat a bit before correcting herself quietly, "Yes, I'd...like that very much." She smiled happily at Bugoron as he exited the back of the wagon and offered his hand, helping her down. Once they were both out, Douglas wasted no time in driving the wagon to the stable. Bugoron watched Douglas go, and then turned back to Willow, "Well, I guess this is where we part." Willow nodded slowly, a small frown starting on the edges of her lips. Bugoron caught the frown before it could develop, and banished it as he added, "For now." Willow's face lit up once again, and her lips quickly spread wide into a happy smile, as she nodded quickly. The half-elf gave her a parting bow, "Bless you and your father, Willow. May Stars guide you both." Willow was still smiling as she replied, "Thank you, I hope I see you again soon." She gave Bugoron one last look, and then went inside the inn. Bugoron smiled to himself as he turned and headed back toward the northern section of town, to arrive at Hullybuck's, the inn where he would stay. The Moonpriest made his way slowly into the meal room, where he disappeared from the eyes of the town for the night.


	3. Weeping Willows

_Chapter Three: Weeping Willows_

It was a fine morning to wake up to when Willow arose from her slumber. She looked out over Berdusk from her window. The warm, bright sun had already come out to smile at the equally shining young maiden. After looking down and inspecting the few people walking below her, her gaze became slightly fixed to the north, where she had heard Bugoron say he was staying for the night. She wanted to go and see him, but she knew that her and her father would likely be leaving soon, for she assumed that Douglas had already been up with the sun. She looked about the room, taking in its furnishings, its feel. The soft bed in which she had slept the night before was nestled in the corner of the little room, adjacent the window. The linen sheets were neatly smoothed out over the bed as they had been the night before, prior to Willow retiring for the night. Once again, she wore her quaint blouse and skirt, which she had placed tidily on the dresser beside the exit. She had set several other belongings down on the dresser: a small mirror, a little brush, some small pieces of leather for binding her hair, and a small purse. She gathered all the little items together and placed them back in her purse, carrying it on one shoulder as the left the room. She made her way down the stairs, past some pretty sketches and portraits given to the proprietor of the inn by various bards or freelance artists who were too n'ere-well-to-do to pay off the cost of their stay. The tavern room was relatively empty, save for a few customers looking for a warm breakfast in the comfortable lodgings of the inn. Douglas was sitting quietly at a table, and turned to look at Willow as she came down the stairs and into the room.

"Come on, then, get yer meal, an' we'll be out of 'ere, me lass!" Douglas's face was its usual grumpy, scowling self, but Willow couldn't help notice the slight hint of excitement on his voice. She had picked up on the subtle differences in her father's tone of voice long ago, but she could tell he was trying hard to mask his voice for some reason. Well, there's not much I can do about it, Willow thought to herself, and she decided to leave her questions for later. She ordered her breakfast and sat with her father, eating quietly and quickly until she was finished. The two exited the inn and headed to the stable, where the horses were kept and the wagon had been secured.

Douglas was moving along at a slightly faster pace than usual, another sign to Willow that he was hiding something, as he coaxed, "Come on, come on, get in there, hurry up!"

The young woman just did as she was told, wondering what her father wasn't telling her. She hurriedly climbed onto the wagon and went through the flaps of cloth that concealed the wagon's contents. She noted that what few wares her father had in the wagon last night were gone, and a new package was left in the middle of the floor. She looked up at Douglas, who had seated himself behind the horses. She noted that her father was grinning just before she looked at him. He had covered it up when she turned her head toward him, but not quite quick enough that she didn't catch a quick glimpse of it.

Douglas gave her a serious look, "I dunno wha's in that, so unpackage it fer me, lass." Willow looked at him curiously for a moment, then nodded, and began to unwrap whatever was in the parcel. As she was opening the package, she noticed that it was red in color, or some of it was, at least. She wondered what it was, but wanted to know for sure, because red was her very favorite color. When she finished undoing the parcel, her eyes widened as her hands unfurled an elegant looking scarlet gown that, to her reckoning, would fit her frame quite perfectly.

She looked up at her father again, and this time, the grin remained unhidden from her. Douglas simply said, "Sold the last of me goods last night, and saw that in the shop next te here. I thought ye might like te wear it when tha' young fella we picked up comes back through te see ye."

Willow's eyes welled with tears, as she placed the gown on the packaging gently, then rushed over to embrace her father joyfully. She exclaimed to him, "Thank you so much, father, I just love it!" She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly again, then went back to the gown. She picked it up, feeling the soft fabric almost glide along her fingers. She went to the back flaps of the wagon and began to tie them shut, so no one could see inside. She turned to her father, asking, "If you don't mind, could I...wear it now? I promise I won't get it dirty or nothin' like that."

Douglas just smiled, nodding his head as he started the horses into a walk, setting them on their way. Willow smiled brightly, and gave her father another hug before bringing the front flaps of the wagon together, tying them shut. Inside the seclusion of the wagon, she wept quietly and happily, hugging the gown tightly against her before removing her current clothes and putting the gown on.

Bugoron had been well on his way down the eastern road from Berdusk by the time the sun began to make its way toward its pinnacle. He had noted from the windows of Hullybuck's that the night would be clear, so he decided to retire early and get what sleep he could, then set out under Selune's watch. He was in the midst of walking up a small hill, and was thinking about his encounter the other day with the happy young girl, Willow. He would make good on his promise, he thought to himself, for it would not be right of him if he did not. What good is a priest of Selune who cannot keep his word? Bugoron was again clothed in his blue and silver robe, with his heavier armor packed or strapped to his pack. His amulet shone in the sunlight and bounced gently against his chest with his light steps. He turned to look back toward Berdusk, and noticed a familiar cart making its way through a long stretch of road surrounded by thick forest. He smiled down at the cart, still quite some distance away, saying aloud, "Well, my Lady, perhaps You smile upon me again today, for I appear to be lucky once more." The half-elf stood off to the side of the road to wait for the wagon to reach him. He did not wait when he saw the wagon stop moving.

Willow sat quietly in the wagon as it began passing through the dense wood. She was smiling widely, looking down at herself. She had put on the gown that had been given to her by her father, and had been looking at herself as best she could with her little mirror. The gown enhanced the young lady's beauty further, if that were at all possible for clothes to do. Her reckonings were correct in the assumption that the dress fit her perfectly. It hugged her body tight, but comfortably, showing off every curve of her small frame. As the wagon trundled along down the road, she was bouncing on her seat slightly. She wondered if she were bouncing more from excitement or from the ride down the bumpy road.

Willow closed her eyes, hugged herself tight, and closed her eyes as she sat, thinking to herself. "I can't wait to wear this for Bugoron..." she said quietly to herself. As the last of her words left her mouth, she heard a loud grunt from her father in the front of the wagon, and felt the wagon slowing down. She feared that Douglas had somehow heard her, and was angry for some reason. She moved to the front to untie the strings holding the flaps in place as the wagon was coming to a full stop. She untied the last of the strings finally, pulling them back to see her father sprawled backwards in his seat. A long-shafted arrow was protruding from Douglas's chest, and it had been aimed directly for his heart. The arrow had found its mark: her father was dead. Willow began to scream, but a grimy hand came around the side of the cloth to cut off her cries as a strange man pulled her back into the concealed back of the wagon. She was so shocked by the death of her father and the man forcing her to the floor, that she found herself unable to move. She closed her eyes tightly, as if to make a nightmare go away, but that was not going to happen. The dream she was in now was no dream, it was real. She opened her eyes slightly to see her attacker. The man was a brutish looking thug, quite fit, and well muscled. He was grinning at her, with what few decaying teeth he still had left in his head. He was breathing heavily, the smell almost overpowering Willow, making her want to wretch. His clothes hung in rags, tattered and torn about his body, which was as foul smelling as his breath.

The thug grinned again, saying, "Oh, come now. Pray, my dear, what's wrong with ye? We're jus' havin' a little fun now, aren't we?" He laughed aloud as he watched tears begin to roll down Willow's face. The man took a small knife from its sheath on his breeches and made a cut in the fabric of Willow's gown.

Willow heard the fabric give way to the knife, and she cried out, "No, don't, please don't!" Her cried was answered with another laugh, as the man took the tear at both ends with his hands, pulling it wide. The tear shot down the length of the gown with the force of the man's pulling, ripping it wide, leaving Willow's body naked and vulnerable as far down as her stomach.

The thug's eyes widened, taking in her beautiful frame, "Oh, pray now, my girl, you weren't goin' te keep this fine body to ye'self, was ye?" he said with a wicked smile. All Willow could do was cry, the man was far too big and too strong for her to move, and even if she could, she didn't believe she had the will to move in the first place. She trembled as she lay exposed to this stranger who was about to humiliate and violate her, and just sobbed.

A voice came from beyond the cloth flaps where Douglas had died, "Pray...pray...? You dare use that word, you filthy wretch? You're unworthy to speak it at all." In a flash of bright blue, a figure came through the flaps. The newcomer took one step and planted a steel boot into the stomach of the thug rising and turning to face him. The thug flew back into the tied flaps of the back of the wagon, the power of the kick driving him through the cloth barrier and out of the wagon completely. Willow could only watch in disbelief through blurry eyes soaked with tears, as the newcomer jumped out the back of the wagon, behind her. She curled herself up into a protective ball on the floor and closed her eyes, hoping that she might now be safe.

Bugoron had enjoyed that vicious kick, but he was far from through with this immoral bastard. Before the thug was able to regain himself, the half-elf bore down on him, landing a brutal punch across the thug's jaw, severely disorienting him. Bugoron brought the man to his feet, saying, "You unclean wretch, you would dare defile a woman of such innocence? You think too much with a part of you besides your brain." He reached down with his left hand, brought his mace from its sheath on his waist, looking back up with a scowl, then a nasty grin, "Allow me to help you with that problem." As he finished speaking, Bugoron swung the mace upward hard and fast, bringing its head between the man's legs. The man dropped instantly, and did not get back up. Bugoron rushed back to the wagon to find Willow, half naked and crying, curled up on the floor. Her back was turned to the half-elf, so instead of reaching out and terrifying her, he called softly, "Willow, it's alright, I'm here now..."

The young woman got herself turned around as quickly as she could at the sound of his voice. She gasped at him, "Bugoron?" She hadn't recognized him, most likely because he was wearing something he hadn't been when they had met before. She looked at the cloak adorning Bugoron, and knew that this must have been the Mooncloak he had told her about. He had said that the Mooncloak was one of Selune's holiest of artifacts given to the most faithful of Her followers. It was made entirely of Moonfyre, and had magical properties of heat. As soon as she knew it was truly Bugoron, her eyes welled with tears again, and she drove herself from the floor, throwing herself into Bugoron's arms.

The priest looked down at her, truly horrified to think of what she had just been put through, and simply held her close. He pulled his Mooncloak around them both, letting the Moonfyre of the cloak emanate gentle warmth into the poor woman. Willow pulled herself as close to Bugoron as she could manage, and wept in his arms. The sun moved solemnly over the tragic scene, allowing some sunlight to leak through the folds of the cloth.

It did nothing to banish the darkness.

The priest watched over her, looking grim. For her, everything had been torn apart: her gown, her innocence, and her life.


	4. New Roads

_Chapter 4: New Roads_

It was getting late in Shadowdale as Lhaeo the Scribe rushed about in his office to gather things up for the evening. He was still working hard, but due to some minor disputes and other difficulties, things had kept him away from his writing. Lhaeo was just thinking to himself about how he'd throttle the next person to bang on his door, when someone banged on his door. Visibly irritated, the scribe went to the door and quickly pulled it open. He was about to tell the knocker to come back tomorrow, when he stopped to better look at the two figures at the door. One was a bleary-eyed man wearing blue and silver robes, and the other was a figure hidden beneath a cloak and hood of living blue flame.

Lhaeo was slightly taken aback at the unusual sight, and asked, "Are you in need of something, sir?"

The priest shook his head, "I am fine, it is my companion who needs help right now..." The figure in the cloak pulled back the hood. Lhaeo's eyes widened as Willow looked up at him, face streaked with tears, and lips trembling with the coming of another fit of sobs. He stuttered at the sight, and searched for words, "W-what, what happened?"

The priest moved forward slightly, "She has been through a horrible experience, and I would like it if you could find someone from the town to help her. I am Bugoron Bearfang, a cleric of Selune. I assume you know this young woman?"

Lhaeo looked at Bugoron, "Why yes, this is Douglas's daughter, Willow, but tell me, good priest, why are you with her, and not he?"

Bugoron frowned, "Let us inside and you will be told everything, but first, she needs somewhere to rest, and some hot food would also help. Is Elminster around, by chance?"

Lhaeo frowned as well, "I am afraid my master is not here at the moment, he has been gone for several days, and I was informed he would gone several more, but you are welcome to stay here as long as you need."

The Moonpriest was visibly relieved at the words, letting out a deep breath and saying, "Thank you." As they made their way into the scribe's inner rooms, Bugoron whispered to Lhaeo not to ask about how they had came to this place until Willow was asleep or they could talk privately, to which the scribe readily agreed. Lhaeo led them into a small dining room and left to send a runner for some hot food from the kitchen. While the scribe was absent, Willow absently sat in her chair, staring at nothing in particular. Bugoron wished he had more words to help comfort the poor young woman, but so much had been taken from her in such a short time, that he had used all of his words, and they still were not enough, it seemed. He looked about the room, filled with expensive furniture: polished oak chairs and a matching table, cabinets by the wall nearest the door, no doubt full of fancy plates and cutlery. The priest looked to the walls and noted the carvings etched into the wooden surface. Scenes of all different sorts were shown, from magnificent battles to sagacious wizards. Bugoron hadn't much time to examine the rest of the room, when Lhaeo came back with a plate of food, still warm from the kitchen. He quickly grabbed a silver spoon from the cabinet, and it and the bowl in front of Willow. The young woman simply looked up at Lhaeo, then to Bugoron, and finally down at the bowl of food, taking the spoon and quietly beginning to eat. The priest saw the look in her eyes, and knew she was more than thankful, but she just couldn't express it. What had happened to Willow was just too much for her to take in all at once, and what she needed more than anything was time and love from her friends. Bugoron shot a look to Lhaeo and glanced at the adjacent room when he'd caught the scribe's attention. The priest looked at Willow, smiled weakly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, and left her to eat, as he and Lhaeo went into the next room. He proceeded to tell Lhaeo about how he had met Willow and her father, their parting, and the attack on the road. It had taken Bugoron just over two days of non-stop traveling to bring the wagon into Shadowdale, during which time the priest refused all chance to sleep, using his healing magic to keep himself going. He told the scribe of the murder of her father, and of the attack on Willow. The priest assured him that the attacker had been "dealt with". Bugoron also mentioned that he had dug a grave off to the side of the road, away from traffic, for Douglas. His resting place, the priest told Lhaeo, was marked with a moonstone, and blessed by the Moonmaiden.

Lhaeo took in the news with a silence filled with sorrow, "It is beyond unfortunate and unfair for all of this to happen to such a happy child..."

Bugoron nodded slowly in agreement, "Indeed, and she needs people who can comfort her right now." He leaned over slightly, looking back at Willow, who was quietly picking away at her food, head down, eyes fixed on the bowl.

Lhaeo watched Bugoron for a moment, and then said quietly, "Perhaps we should move back inside with her, keep her company, sir?" The priest looked back and nodded to him, as the two started back into the room. As the half-elf's steel boots clanked on the floor, Willow suddenly turned to watch him come in. Her eyes looked to Bugoron with the expression of one whom gazed at their savior, after long standing suffering, and it pained the priest to see that look in her eyes. So different was this woman from just days before, now so tormented, destroyed and hollow.

Bugoron laid a gentle hand on Willow's shoulder, "I see you finished up the food, I'm glad to see that you were able to eat. You should get some rest now, you're exhausted."

Willow kept her eyes on him for a few moments, and then nodded slowly to him. As she lowered her gaze, her eyes fixed on the amulet adorning his neck, where her gaze lingered again for another few moments. She then rose quietly from her place at the table, and allowed Lhaeo to bring a servant to show her to her room. When the young woman left the room, Bugoron leaned against the wall, letting down all the mental barriers he had set up to ward off the exhaustion that was growing inside him.

Lhaeo looked to the half-elf in concern, "I believe that Willow is not the only one who needs sleep. Come, I will take you to a room as well, my friend." The scribe helped Bugoron along as he consented to Lhaeo's assistance. They walked up a set of ornate stairs to the second floor, where Lhaeo helped Bugoron to a door on the right side of the hallway. The half-elf was so exhausted that he could barely make out anything he looked at as he passed them. The scribe opened the door, and the priest walked inside the room. Bugoron thanked Lhaeo groggily and waited for him to leave the room before pulling off his robes. He took blue cotton under-breeches from his pack and slipped them on. He looked around, half in a daze, and wondered where his Mooncloak was. It took him a moment, but then he remembered that Willow was still wearing it when she had left the dining room. The half-elf didn't mind, it would help her stay warm through the night, and he could pick it up tomorrow. Bugoron pulled back the silk covers of the bed, crawled in slowly, covered himself up, and looked around.

He squinted his bleary vision and looked at the door, "Did I lock that?" he wondered. He pondered the question only for a short time, deeming it an unnecessary precaution. Bugoron was, after all, sleeping in the house of Elminster, thus he figured there was little chance of anything happening simply because he had not locked his door. He looked at his pack, resting on the chair beside the bed, and then turned in the bed, to look at the lone candle giving light to the room. He quickly blew out the candle and drifted into sleep.

In the stark silence of her quarters, Willow lay curled in her bed, sheets pulled tightly over her. She tried desperately to sleep, but the darkness made an ideal canvas on which her nightmares were being painted. Images of her father sprawled back on his back with lifeless eyes staring at her, the horrible man that had killed him and tried to rape her. Thoughts ran through her head about what might have happened if Bugoron hadn't shown up in time to stop the thug from having his way with her. Then, as the thought of Bugoron crossed her mind's eye, she felt a sort of calm, a respite from the torrent of horrors that sought to haunt her dreams. She rose from her bed and looked to the chair at her side. Bugoron's Mooncloak gave off a small amount of light, making it possible for her to discern most everything in the room. She took the cloak gently, feeling the Moonfyre radiate a gentle heat into her skin. She slid the cloak over her shoulders, clasping it around her neck, and slipped out of her room. I need to stay with him, his presence keeps the nightmares away, she thought to herself. She walked toward the stairs and looked to the door on her left. She tried the door and found it unlocked, so she gently pushed the door open slightly to peek inside. The radiance of the Mooncloak lit up a portion of the room just to the right of the bed, which looked like it was occupied. The chair beside the bed was illuminated, along with a leather backpack that had been laid on it. Willow recognized Bugoron's pack, and she felt that calming feeling wash over her again. She smiled slightly as she opened the door further, passing through the doorway, shutting and locking the door behind her.

The sun rose on Elminster's home long before Bugoron awoke. The rays of sunlight bursting through the window warmed the bed in which he lay, making it very comfortable. The half-elf's eyes opened slightly as he began to stir. He had turned in the night, so that he was now facing the chair at the bedside once again. He saw his Mooncloak draped over it lightly and smiled. Suddenly, though, his eyes opened wider, and he stared at the cloak with blurry eyes.

Bugoron blinked a few times, "I didn't go after that last night..." As he began to become more aware of things, he noted the feeling of something against his skin. He looked down at his arms...but they were not his arms. Examining them closer, they were much more slender, and had a feminine look to them. One arm was draped over him, while the other was under him, linking in front of his chest. The information began hitting his brain hard and fast as he also felt something at his back. Bugoron gently pulled the hands free of each other and turned in the bed, to face the other way. The priest's eyes flew wide with surprise and shock. He looked down to Willow, who had been holding him from behind, and who was wearing nothing. He tried furiously to work out the thoughts flying through his mind, but they were moving too fast. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and turned back around. He went to rise from the bed, when he heard Willow start to stir. Bugoron panicked, wondering what he would say. He couldn't scold her for doing what she did, especially not after what she'd been through. For all Bugoron knew, he might be one of her only friends, and for him to blow up at her would do more harm than good. The priest decided it best to simply collapse on the bed once again. He pretended to still be asleep as Willow moved slightly under the silk covers. She took a deep breath, and sighed contentedly, pulling herself close to Bugoron, hugging him tight and resting her head against his shoulder. For the next few minutes, she did not move, indicating to the half-elf that she had fallen back asleep. He thought about it for a moment, and finally decided that he would stay. He relaxed in the bed and tried to go back to sleep. He would let Willow be the first to rise from sleep, he thought, since she needed sleep as bad as he, and was using him for a security blanket. The priest closed his eyes. He had not fully rid himself of the exhaustion that had accumulated over the two days it took to get from the site of the attack to Shadowdale, so he was quick to drift back into slumber.

Willow enjoyed the feel of holding Bugoron tightly during the few minutes it took for him to fall back asleep. Once his body relaxed again, she waited for a while before slipping her arm out from underneath his body. She leaned in close, gently kissing Bugoron's neck before she rose from the bed. She went to the chair and took the simple clothes that had been given to her by the servant from under the Mooncloak. She quietly slipped them on and headed to the door. She turned, looking back at Bugoron, asleep in the bed, and smiled warmly. She unlocked the bolt, sliding the door open silently and slipped out, heading downstairs to get something to eat. As she made her way down the stairs, she caught the smell of eggs in the air. Willow quickened her pace, hoping she'd not missed out on a delicious-smelling breakfast. As she came into the dining room, she nearly bumped into Lhaeo, who had placed a large plate of bacon and eggs on the table.

The scribe smiled as he met her in the doorway, "Oh, good morning, madam, I hope you still have a big appetite, I asked the cooks to whip up something nutritious and appealing for you. I hope you like bacon and eggs." He had a happy look on his face, but his eyes gave away that he was watching her closely, with concern.

Willow was quick to pick up the difference between Lhaeo's eyes and face, "I'm fine, I promise ye, friend." She smiled, assuring him of the sincerity of her words.

Lhaeo looked at her curiously for a moment, but then just shrugged, hoping for the best. He started to turn away, when he stopped, looking back at Willow, "So I guess I do not need to ask whether you slept well or not, madam?"

The young woman was taking her seat at the table when the scribe asked her this. She stopped a moment, then, turning to Lhaeo, she smiled warmly, "Yes, I did, no bad dreams or anything at all last night." She then turned back to the table and began to eat her breakfast.

A knock on the door of the bedroom gave Bugoron a start as he snapped into consciousness. He instinctively looked behind him and found that Willow was no longer in the bed. As he scanned the room, he also noticed she had vacated completely. Breathing a sigh of relief, he called, "Yes, come in." The priest kept the sheets about him, sitting up in the bed, as Lhaeo slowly opened the door and walked in.

The scribe looked to Bugoron and started, "Oh, do forgive me, I had hoped not to disturb you while you were asleep."

The half-elf shook his head and waved a hand, "I was waking up in the first place, you need not feel bad. Is there something I can help you with?"

Lhaeo replied, "No no, all is well, I just wanted to let you know that the cooks have made breakfast for you. It will be waiting for you downstairs, if you'd like to come down and have some." He looked to Bugoron a moment, "By the way, I met Willow downstairs. She seems extremely better than she did last night. Do you have any clue as to what might have happened to bring about such a quick change?"

Bugoron pondered the question for a minute, then shook his head slowly, "To be honest, I find what you say is hard to believe, but I do believe your claim, and I am glad to hear it all the same. I will soon be down for breakfast, I just want to check my things first."

Lhaeo nodded, "Very well, sir, I will leave you to your things, and perhaps we will talk later on downstairs." He smiled, turning and closing the door behind him.

Bugoron watched the door close, turning his gaze to the chair where his Mooncloak still rested, "I hate lying like that..." he whispered to himself, frowning. He knew very well what had caused Willow to be so cheerful today, and he also knew it wouldn't last. Sooner or later, she would slip back into the state she had been in last night. Perhaps not as bad, but she would now believe that only when he were with her could she be able to escape the demons that were haunting her right now. Such a thing could be expected when she seemingly had already been falling in love with the half-elf, but could his presence be so great to her that by just being with her, he was able to drive away the horror that had struck her so fiercely? As that thought passed through Bugoron's mind, he felt a pang of guilt. He had no such feelings for Willow, saw her as a dear friend, but nothing more, but he couldn't very well just bluntly tell her as much and shatter her already cracked and fragile world. For right now, if she needed someone to care for, then he would allow himself to be that person, but he would not show her feelings any more than that of a friend, and would have to make sure things did not get out of hand. His decision having been made, he crawled out of the bed. He took a few moments to adorn himself with his robes and other items, and packed the Mooncloak back into his pack. He made his way to the door, but stopped before it, turning. He looked back at the bed, his brows furrowing slightly, then shook his head, turning back around as he walked out the door. The priest made his way down the stairs and into the dining room, where Willow waited at the table. The young woman had an impatient look on her face, but smirked as she looked at him, "Up and at 'em, sleepyhead, ye certainly do sleep long enough, don't ye?"

The half-elf smirked back at her, replying, "And since when is it a sin for a Moonpriest to sleep through the morning? Have you had breakfast yet, Willow?"

"It's all but gone and settled," she exclaimed to him, grinning. "Now hurry up if ye want to be going today!"

Bugoron smiled, "Alright, alright," he said. He sat at the oak table and began to eat his plate of bacon and eggs. He noted out of the corner of his eye that Willow was watching him. He stopped suddenly, and turned his head sharply towards her, "What, is there something on my face...?"

Willow blinked at his quick action, then snickered, cracking up at the quick jest. She laughed happily at the priest's joke, "No, no, there's none on your face, ye silly fool!"

Bugoron grinned and finished off his food, wiping his face with a napkin, which brought another snicker from Willow. He stood just as Lhaeo came into the room. Bugoron looked to him, "Ahh, perfect timing, I wanted to thank you for the lodging and food. I am afraid I'll be heading out today."

Both woman and scribe looked at him with eyes wide. Lhaeo's expression softened into a smile of understanding, while Willow's did not. She looked surprised at the priest, "But Bugoron, ye've only gotten one night's sleep in contrast to losing two, ye must still be very tired, ye'll run yourself ragged!"

The half-elf shook his head, "I've been through worse, but thank you for your concern," he said with a smile. He bowed to Lhaeo, "May Stars guide you, my friend, and give Elminster my regards upon his return."

Lhaeo bowed in return, "Of course, sir, may you be safe in your travels."

Bugoron turned and headed out of the dining room, walking down the hall. He stopped at the doorway, as he looked down curiously at a pack resting by the door. He blinked, studying the pack, then turned his head slowly back to eye Willow, who had followed him to the door. She was standing firm, with a serious and determined face. He blinked again, "No."

The young woman simply replied, "Yes."

Bugoron sighed, "Willow, I know you want to come with me, but you would be better off staying here."

Willow shook her head, "I can't stay here, there's no one left here for me. Besides, a good journey would do me good, don't you think?" she winked as she finished.

"No, I _don't_ think it would do you good," Bugoron stated.

The young woman stared at him, "I'm coming with you, and there's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

Bugoron replied quickly, thinking he had a trump card, "I will refuse to visit you," he said, staring back at her. Instead of a look of surprise, though, Willow just smirked. The priest furrowed his brows, "What?"

Willow grinned, winking, "If I'm with you in the first place, you won't _have_ to visit me. I believe I win, Bugoron."

The half-elf sighed, exasperated. He went silent for a few moments, then looked up at Willow, "Fine, you can come along, but I cannot and _will_ not turn around for you, you must understand. You know why I travel, and it is something I need to resolve."

Willow nodded quickly, "I know, and I promise I won't ask you to, and I will not get in the way."

Bugoron nodded slowly, "Alright, then, get your pack, we leave now."

As the half-elf turned towards the door, Willow beamed happily, hefting the pack quickly over her shoulder, and following the priest out the door.

Lhaeo heard the door in the entryway close from his office as he was sorting through some of his paperwork. He waited a moment before standing, but as he still heard nothing, he went to the hallway, he looked out toward the door leading outside. His eyes focused on a small piece of parchment lying on the floor, which he quickly came over to confiscate. He remembered Willow leaving a pack in the exact same spot earlier that day, but hadn't completely understood why. When he went to ask her about it, Willow explained that Bugoron was going to let her travel with him. Knowing the priest's journey, and believing that he would want no harm to come to the young woman, he told her that he believed otherwise, but that it was between Bugoron and herself. The scribe bent slowly, picking up the paper. As he straightened to stand, he looked at the writing on the paper. He couldn't help but crack a smile and shake his head as he walked back to his office, reading the words on the parchment to himself:

_I told you he would let me come with him_


	5. Masters of Subtlety

_Chapter 5: Masters of Subtlety_

The two made for the east gate of Shadowdale with a rapid pace, Bugoron in the lead, and Willow following right behind.

Bugoron looked back to the young woman, "Will the guards give us any grief when we leave?"

Willow shook her head, "They knew me since I was just a youngin', we'll be fine." They passed through the gates without a word from the guards, but the half-elf stopped in his tracks as he heard a male voice shouting from behind them. The two turned as one to watch a young man wearing half a suit of armor trundle down the road toward them.

The man came to a halt in front of Willow, panting and puffing, "Willow...I'm...going with...you," he swallowed, regaining his breath, "I wouldn't feel right letting you go on this trek to wherever you're going without staying with you to protect you." He stood straight after regaining his breath. The man was well-built, head adorned with scraggly brown hair and eyes of a light blue hue. His tall, almost imposing figure, Bugoron believed, was not one to be reckoned with.

Bugoron watched the scene curiously, then gently brought Willow back toward him, whispering to her, "You know this fellow, I presume?"

Upon seeing the half-elf grab Willow, the young man's eye's lit up, and he drew a sword from the scabbard at his side, "Kindly take your hand away from her, sir, I will not allow you to harm her!"

Bugoron looked up at the man with surprise, raising an eyebrow and smirking, "Oh...? What are the repercussions if I refuse?"

Willow scowled, "Put that sword away Roddie, ye'll be sooner te hurt yerself than him!"

Roddie seemed to flinch at the words, but leveled his sword at Bugoron, "Should you refuse, I will drive you away by sword-point myself."

Bugoron's face seemed to light up a bit, as if he enjoyed that prospect, grinning at the young man, "I always was one to do things the hard way, son, show me what you can do with your big pointy sword." Bugoron ended with a smirk, watching Roddie's face go red, half in embarrassment, half in rage. The priest gently ushered Willow away, "Don't worry, I won't be too rough on him." He winked at her and turned just in time to watch Roddie rush him, raising his sword for a frontal attack. The half-elf bent slightly, spinning around the swordsman as the sword came down where he had previously been, and drew his mace from his scabbard as he straightened, facing Roddie's back.

Roddie turned to him once again, "You're moving around will not spare you my wrath, scoundrel!" The swordsman came at Bugoron again, this time keeping his sword down, bringing it back for a horizontal sweep. The priest met the blade with his mace, stopping the motion of the slash, but forcing him to the side a bit. Bugoron made a note of Roddie's obvious strength, and jumped back a step as the swordsman brought his blade back and swung again, connecting with the air.

Willow, watching the duel, but unable to do anything about it, shouted at Roddie, "Stop this right now!" She waited for Roddie to reply, but he stayed silent, focused on his opponent.

Bugoron waited for Roddie's next move, which was a diagonal slash. The half-elf easily pivoted to the side, avoiding the attack, but soon realized his foolish recklessness. Roddie kept the sword from hitting ground and spun himself around, bringing the sword through a vicious horizontal circle aimed right at Bugoron's torso. Bugoron saw little else for options, so he brought his mace back and swung upwards, meeting the blade with his full force before the cutting edge of the blade could get to him. The combined power of the attack and block caused a tremendous clang of metal that resounded in the air. Bugoron and Roddie met eyes and stared at each other, as the blade from Roddie's sword flew through the air to strike the ground hard. The blade sunk into the earth, stuck fast.

Bugoron eased a bit, "Whew, not too bad at all" His compliment was met with a fist to the left of his jaw. The priest was knocked back slightly by the force of Roddie's punch, but held his ground, head turned to the side.

Willow cried out, and ran at Roddie. As the swordsman eased so as to hold Willow, he was met with a nasty slap to the face. He blinked, staring at her for a moment, wondering why Willow would slap her rescuer.

The young woman scowled at Roddie, "Ye dummy, couldn't even find out if he were a friend before swinging yer sword around, now could ye? Bugoron saved my life, you know. It's just as well he broke yer sword, ye'd have ended up hurtin' somebody innocent with it!" She turned and went to Bugoron, leaving Roddie dumbfounded. She placed a gentle hand on the half-elf's cheek, opposite the one that had been hit, "Oh, Bugoron, are ye alright? Can ye fix it?"

Bugoron smiled, patting her shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his hands together in a strange gesture. Willow watched him, and could hear him whispering a low prayer to his Lady, Selune. As Bugoron finished, Willow looked on in disbelief as the priest's hands glowed light blue. The half-elf placed his hands on his jaw, where he had been punched, and waited. Willow, who still had her hand on his cheek, felt a warm energy pass through Bugoron's face, as healing magic mended his jaw until it was completely repaired.

Bugoron tested his jaw, moving it from side to side, then nodded, "Good as new." He looked at Roddie and nodded again, "You've got some skill, you're obviously not some ordinary pup out looking for a fight."

Roddie frowned and lowered his gaze, "I apologize for my actions, sir, I was rash and unreasonable."

Bugoron furrowed his brow, "Oh bah, no one was seriously hurt, so don't go moping like that. Allow me to introduce myself, Bugoron Bearfang, Blue Moon Cleric, at your service." He bowed to the swordsman and smiled.

Roddie smiled weakly, "Roderick Hughes, sir, although most folk around town call me Roddie. Willow said you had saved her life. If that is true, then I am indebted to you. I would not have forgiven myself if something had happened to her while I was absent from her side." Roderick returned the priest's bow.

As the swordsman finished his last sentence, Bugoron began thinking to himself. It was obvious that Willow meant more than a little to Roderick. Perhaps there was some small amount of affection waiting to be kindled and fed, so that it might grow between the two. The half-elf smiled inwardly, as he ran the idea through his head again, thinking he may have found a solution to Willow's dependency on him. He motioned Willow over to him, so that they might speak privately.

Willow looked to Bugoron curiously, "What is it?"

The priest asked, "How long have you known Roddie?"

The young woman answered him, "Since we were kids."

He prodded, "Did you two have...affections, shall we say, for each other, if you don't mind my asking?"

She replied, "Yes we did."

The priest smiled and continued, "Do you still feel them?"

The woman stated, "No."

Bugoron's smile vanished. He blinked, "No?"

Willow shook her head, "Nope."

The half-elf pondered a moment, asking, "But it's obvious that he still cares very much for you, did something happen to make you change your mind about him, can you really just let it go at that?"

Willow shook her head again, "No, he hasn't changed at all since the time when I loved him, and he's done me no harm in me life"

Bugoron nodded, "So then, can you really end it like this, doesn't it seem a bit too cruel?"

Willow was silent a moment, then smiled, "Yes, ye're right, of course." She turned and walked toward Roddie. Bugoron smiled as he approached him. He saw Roddie tense up slightly as Willow got closer, and couldn't help but grin.

The young woman stood in front of the swordsman and said bluntly, "I'm sorry Roddie, but I'll never love ye again." She then walked away.

Bugoron's grin disappeared quicker than a shooting star. He sighed, shaking his head, saying to himself, "That's _not_ what I meant..." He looked over to Roddie, whose jaw was slack from the declaration Willow had just issued, "Come with me a moment, would you?" The priest looked to Willow, "We'll be right back." Bugoron took Roderick by the arm, ushering him off to the side to convene in private.

As soon as they were out of the young woman's direct earshot, the swordsman gave Bugoron a wide-eyed look, "What was that all about?"

The half-elf calmed Roddie down and related to him what had happened in the last few days. The swordsman was deeply saddened to hear of Douglas's death, but was hugely thankful that Willow had been saved before she was brought to harm. Bugoron continued, telling Roderick of her new 'dependency' on him since the attack.

Roddie took it all in, and finally said, "So she clings to you in order to keep her mind off of the past events?"

Bugoron nodded, "I believe so, but now that I know that you two have a history, I have something to work with."

The swordsman furrowed his eyebrows, "By what do you mean, sir?"

"It's quite simple," answered the priest, "You two were in love before the attack, I take it, so that means that if we can bring you two together, her dependency for me should disappear.

"I see," said Roderick, "You may have a point, but how do you suggest we go about bringing Willow and I together when she has just flatly stated to me that she has no love for me anymore?"

the half-elf grinned, "That, my friend, is a road parallel with mine. You've already said that you were going to follow Willow on the journey she undertook, right?" Bugoron waited for the swordsman to nod, then continued, "I am a cleric, and although I have traveled for years, I still can only do so much in the way of fighting. A hearty warrior would be a good companion for the road, since I don't very well know what I'm up against."

Roderick smiled, "You mean you'd let me travel with you and Willow?" He stopped short, though, absently letting his hand drop to his empty scabbard, "But sir, I am now without a proper weapon, I can not defend you two if I cannot defend myself."

"Then we will just have to find you a proper weapon, won't we?" suggested Bugoron.

Roderick frowned slightly, "Sir, I forged that blade myself, and I trust no weapon not made by my hand."

The half-elf looked curiously at the swordsman, "You forged that sword? Hmm...I must admit it was plenty sturdy up till the end, how long have you been smithing?"

Roderick replied, "Six months, sir, I needed money to help pay for food and equipment to train with. I know I am not very adept at it yet, but..." he trailed off.

Bugoron smiled, "You have promise, that is certain, but you must not keep the mindset that you can only trust weapons you yourself have forged, what would you do if you had to defend us on the road, and your blade had snapped _then_ instead of now?"

The man looked down slightly, "Yes, you have a point."

Bugoron gave him a pat on the shoulder, "It's not the sword, but the one who wields it, my friend, that matters. Come, let us find another weapon for you." He led Roderick back over to where Willow was standing. With a smile, the priest said, "We have another companion, Willow. Roddie will be joining me on my trip to act as a bodyguard."

The woman leveled her gaze at Bugoron, "Ye've done a fine job by yourself, and I'm one for believin' ye can continue fine that way."

The priest countered, "Yes, that may be true, but how would you feel if I were to be wounded or injured because I was busy protecting you...?"

Willow stopped short, as was expected by the half-elf, lowered her gaze, and muttered, "All right, fine..." She nodded her submission in the matter.

Bugoron smirked, "Well then, now that this has been settled, it's time to go shopping for a sword."

The trio slowly made their way back toward the city proper; however, they were oblivious to the eyes that followed them. Orbs of emerald, large and beautiful, held their gaze on each of the three, but held the longest on the large man in the rear. Full red lips curved into a mischievous smile, as a melodic voice uttered, "Perhaps I'll perform today, after all..."

Roderick stood before his master, the owner of the blacksmith shop, in silence. The blacksmith, a robust man, with a bald pate and steel grey eyes, looked back to Roddie with a frown. The swordsman looked to his superior with wide eyes, "You mean they still haven't arrived?" He looked around the back area of the shop, where forging took place. The area was wide and open, with the forge set in the centre of the ground, belching out heat from the fire burning inside. Off to the side was a large anvil, its top worn smooth from many years of metal being pounded on it. Tools lined the walls of the forge area, and material was stockpiled on the floor, but the supply of materials, ore of many different types, was dangerously low.

The blacksmith returned, "Aye, that's right, lad, the shipment of metal and materials never made it to Shadowdale, far as I know. Either it never made its way back out of Westgate, or it's just late making it to Shadowdale from making its rounds out there."

Bugoron thought a moment, "Mr. MacNalty, sir, can you say for sure that the supply caravan always comes from Westgate back to Shadowdale?"

The blacksmith looked to Bugoron, "Please, sir, you can call me Robert, and yes, it do always come through that way."

The half-elf nodded to Robert, "I will be traveling that way soon, so perhaps I can investigate the problem."

Roderick smiled and nodded in agreement, "Yes, master, we will find out what has gone wrong."

Robert looked to Roddie, "Not without a weapon, you won't, lad. Wait here." Robert went into a room at the far end of the smithing area. He came back shortly after, holding a sword in his hand. He handed the blade to Roddie, "Here lad, some fellow sold this to me the other day, said he no longer had a use for it. He also said it was magically enhanced, but wouldn't say what enchantment had been placed on it."

Bugoron came forward, uttered a quick prayer, and held his hand out toward the blade. A light blue aura flowed from the priest's hand, enveloping the sword. Bugoron waited for the aura to change color, and smiled when it did not, "Whatever cantrip is placed on the sword, it is not evil, you should be safe using it, Roderick."

Roddie smiled and held the blade in his right hand, as he and the half-elf studied it. The sword's blade, about thirty-two inches in length, had a hint of blue in its metallic sheen. There was a set of arcane runes running down the length of the blade on one side. Bugoron attempted to decipher the runes, but could only make out '..._amplify...self..._'. He kept the thought in his mind as he looked to the hilt of the blade. The crosspiece at the top of the hilt was a set of stylized steel wings; however, one of the wings was a feathered wing, like that of an angel, while the other was a leathery wing, resembling the wing of a demon or dragon. Between the two, a bloodstone was set into the hilt. The handle was formed from numerous strands of metal spiraling down to the pommel. The design looked something like snake coils. Finally, the pommel was a golden orb half-protruding from the bottom of the handle, like a sunrise peeking out past the horizon. Roderick slid the sword easily into his scabbard, smiling, and turned to Robert, "Thank you, master, you shall not go unpaid for your generous act unto me."

Robert snorted, "Oh bah, lad, I'm just glad we've learned to use someone else's handiwork. Use it well, and it should do the same for you." He smiled as he ended.

Bugoron bowed before Robert, who returned the bow, and said, "Thank you again," then turned to Willow and Roderick, "We should get on the road." Bugoron turned and headed out, with his two companions following behind. They once again headed out toward the gate of the city, passing by people going about their daily business. The cleric came to a halt, however, when he heard a startled cry behind him. He turned to see Willow staring at Roddie, who held an unknown young woman in his arms. Not the greatest of ideas, my friend, he thought to himself, as he wondered what was going on.

The woman looked up at Roddie, "Oh, thank you, I twisted my ankle. I was fortunate you were right here to catch me, how can I ever repay you?" She smiled sweetly at Roddie, deep green eyes full of gratitude.

Roderick blushed slightly, looking to Willow, who quickly turned the other way. He looked back to the woman he held, "Well, uh, that is...it was nothing, Ma'am."

The woman's full lips seemed to almost pout, "Oh, but there must be something I can do..." She stopped short as Bugoron came back to look at her, "Sit her down, Roderick."

Roderick nodded to the half-elf, leading the woman to a bench, where he let the woman sit down. She held his arm, pulling him to sit down beside her. She winced a little as she jarred her ankle slightly.

Bugoron stood before her, looking down at her ankle, then looking up at the woman, "You're in luck..."

The woman tilted her head slightly, "How do you mean, good sir? It isn't twisted"

The half-elf finished, "I'm a cleric..."

The woman blinked, "Oh..."

Bugoron smirked, "How do you wish to pay me for healing a faked injury, coin or song, or perhaps poetry, or a dance, maybe? I'm sure a bard has many ways of repayment..."

It was the woman's turn to blush a bit, she shot back, a bit flustered, "It wasn't _that_ obvious, now was it?" She looked to Roddie, who seemed thoroughly confused.

The cleric chuckled, "I've known enough bards to pick them out of crowds, do not worry, I would be a hard one to fool, your...performance...was quite good, though maybe a little less fawning on your rescuer, next time...?"

The bard looked to Bugoron with feigned surprise, "Oh, but how could a young lady such as myself not be more than...pleased...to have such a handsome gentleman save her from a horrid fall...?" She let a slender hand rest on Roderick's arm as she once again smiled sweetly up to him, "Oh, do forgive me, kind sir, I haven't even given you my name. Icedea Rathi, at your service. Let me know if there is anything at all I can do for you..."

Roderick was quick to find his mouth quite dry. He'd never had a woman act like this toward him, not even Willow. He looked to his childhood love, who seemed to glare at him from the corner of her eye. Bugoron picked up on this, and mulled the situation over in his mind. If Icedea continued her 'act', Willow may just forget that she had decided to not love Roddie any longer. Bugoron made his way slowly to the bench, putting on a serious face, "Songstress, come with me, please, I'd like to talk to you."

Icedea turned, looking to the priest. She raised an eyebrow at his tone, but then looked into his eyes and saw the mischief in them, "Of course, sir," she turned to Roddie, "I'll be right back, dear Roderick."

The half-elf led the bard away from earshot of the others and kept his back to them. He looked to the songstress and asked, "You're playing him for a fool, aren't you?"

Icedea started, "How dare you simply-" then stopped, as she noted the grin on Bugoron's face, "...all right, maybe I enjoy flirting with handsome men, what is that to you?"

The half-elf inclined his head, while still grinning, "A great deal, actually, and I am willing to pay you as such to continue."

Icedea blinked, "...Come again?"

Bugoron nodded, "You heard it right, I'll pay you, the only thing is I have to ask you to accompany me on a journey where I know not where my final destination be, nor who my ultimate foe is. We will tell the other two that I have hired you to record this journey of mine for a book to be written later, when this is all over. Perhaps I could ask you to truly write the book, to make things seem legitimate, I will make sure you are given the information you'll need concerning what has already happened. How does that sound to you?"

The songstress played along, putting on a look of deep thought, as if deciding whether or not to take Bugoron's 'offer', "All right, you have a deal, might I have the name of the one whom I have given my service?"

The half-elf bowed, "Bugoron Bearfang, Blue Moon Cleric, at your service, as you to me. Come, let us deliver the good news to our waiting companions," he ended with a smirk. He led Icedea back to the group and looked to Roddie and Willow, "You should know that this kind bard has agreed to accompany us on the journey to record our experiences and keep us entertained with a song or two along the way."

Willow's leveled gaze found its way back to Bugoron again, "Ye're joking."

Bugoron held his ground, "I am not."

Roddie wasn't sure whether to be glad or appalled, "I, uh...will concur with whatever decision you make, Bugoron."

Icedea looked over to Roderick and gave him a wink, "Glad someone's happy to have me along," she grinned while watching the blood rise again in Roddie's face.

Willow looked to Bugoron in protest, "We don't need her to come along, what good will she be?"

Now it was Bugoron's turn to level his gaze on Willow, "She has been hired to accompany me, Willow. I have not hired you, so I leave you the option of staying here if it so pleases you. Roddie can still come along, and he will be reassured by the fact that you are safe back in your home." The tone in which he responded to Willow put her in a stunned silence. Her face went pale, and all she could do was shake her head. After a few moments, she meekly muttered, "I'm sorry, it doesn't matter, she can come..."

Bugoron walked over and gently patted her shoulder, "I'm sorry as well, I didn't mean to sound so harsh, please forgive me."

Willow's color returned, but she merely nodded weakly.

The half-elf looked to Roderick and Icedea, "Let's head out, we need to look for that caravan. Icedea, Roddie will fill you in on the way," he turned and headed to the gates, his three companions following behind.

The walk from Shadowdale was turning into a quiet one for Willow. Since their departure, she fell back to the back of the group. The young woman would occasionally look ahead of her to Bugoron, who led the band down the road to Westgate, blue robes swaying with his movements. The tone which Bugoron had used back in town had hurt her; she had not expected such an imposing voice could come from one so warm and kind. She looked at Roderick and Icedea, who were conversing casually. "Why," she thought to herself, "why did we have to let them come as well? I wanted to be with you, Bugoron...just you..." She had merely given in to Bugoron because she had no desire to anger him. In truth, she very much would have preferred if Roddie and Icedea hadn't shown up at all. She mulled this and other things in her mind for some time, until she heard a shout from Bugoron. She looked up to see her three companions running toward an uncovered wagon that had stopped in the middle of the road. The wagon was surrounded by armed and armored men, while two smaller figures stood defiantly on the wagon. Some men lay on the ground, dead from bolts from the crossbows held by the figures on the wagon, no doubt. As Willow looked on one of the dead men, a vivid memory of her father, Douglas, crept into her mind. The image struck her hard, and she dropped to her knees, unable to move as the distance between her and her allies grew.

Bugoron pulled his mace from his mace-loop with ease as he looked back to gauge his advance compared to Roderick's and Icedea's. Both were right behind him, Roddie with his new sword, and Icedea with a long metal staff that had been strapped to her pack. Willow was behind them, but running slower. He noted this positively, for he wanted her away from the fighting, where she would be unhurt. He looked forward again and began counting how many men stood around the wagon. The half-elf counted a dozen men, and the lack of any cover within close proximity reassured him he was likely correct. Still, the Moonpriest wasn't overly fond of the numbers, for his group was only three, meaning they would be fighting four-to-one, unless they received help from the two in the wagon. The highwaymen had noticed them by now, and were focusing their attention on Bugoron's group, obviously seeing him and his friends as a bigger threat. Six of the men ran toward Bugoron's group, while the other six stayed to hold off the shots of the crossbows from the two figures on the wagon. Bugoron quickly looked up to the wagon, attempting to get a better look at the two defending it. Upon his closer speculation, he found that the two were both dwarves. This revelation gave the half-elf hope that this was the supply wagon that had not made it to Shadowdale. The first attacker made a swing with his short sword, forcing Bugoron to block with his mace. Two others came around to either side of the priest and passed by to occupy Roderick and Icedea. Bugoron pushed his foe back, but narrowed his eyes as the three others reached their spot. Again, the group separated, to outnumber Bugoron and the others.

Options were few and far between. Bugoron looked behind him quickly, finding Roddie trying to hold off his two enemies, "Roddie, back up, back-to-back!" The swordsman took a quick glance behind him and jumped back, to which Bugoron did the same, meeting Roderick at the back.

Roderick swung his sword defensively, holding back the two in front of him, "Good decision, friend, we shan't be flanked now!"

Bugoron replied, "Yes, indeed," he watched his enemies closely, "You work metals. Do you have any smelted ore on you?"

Roderick grabbed a lump of iron from his pocket and dropped it behind him, where it landed just in front of the priest, "Only one I had on me!"

The half-elf bent quickly to grab the metal with his right hand, and started uttering a prayer to Selune. At this, one of Bugoron's attackers, fearing a spell was going to be cast, rushed forward to try and strike the half-elf before the spell could go off.

He swung his sword down hard and fast toward Bugoron's head.

He almost made contact.

Bugoron's prayer finished, the metal disappearing, just as the thug was overhead. The thug was still overhead, but was perfectly motionless. The man's eyes widened and looked around, panicked, as he found his whole body unable to budge from its current position. The highwayman's partner, standing behind, blinked at his fellow thug in stunned disbelief. The priest caught this lack of attention and rushed forward quickly to slam his mace into the man's stomach. The bandit fell over with a groan before going unconscious. Bugoron looked back to see if Roddie was still alright. Roderick was doing well at holding back his two foes, but one of them looked behind and nudged his partner to do the same. The other man did so, and both took a moment to look back at Roddie, then turned full around and ran the other way.

Bugoron looked to the swordsman, "Why would they - " he stopped as he looked past Roderick. His eyes went huge as he saw Willow on her knees, unmoving on the ground even as the men came nearer. The priest cried, "Roddie, go, now!!" and pointed toward Willow.

Roderick turned and also saw Willow. As soon as recognition struck, his feet launched him into a full-tilt run to intercept the two heading for the young woman.

The half-elf turned again, this time seeking Icedea. He quickly judged that she was holding her two foes with relative ease. She looked as if she was performing an intricate dance for a crowd of onlookers, and indeed, it was a dance. Her staff before her, she twisted and spun, hurling the steel pole in windmills and sweeps, while keeping a perfect balance. The length of the weapon and the speed of Icedea's motions kept the bandits from even getting close enough to make a decent attack. Bugoron began to shout, "Songstress, do you - " but stopped as a chunk of metal skidded to a stop beside him. He looked to the wagon, and saw one of the dwarves looking back at him. Bugoron quickly took the metal and looked back toward Willow, focusing his eyes on one of the men coming very close to her. He again uttered a prayer, and watched the metal in his hand again vanish. He was somewhat relieved to see the man he had been focused on was stuck fast in his current stance. He looked to Roderick, and was taken aback at the speed at which the swordsman was running. Roddie covered the ground between himself and the highwayman with amazing ease, and took a great swing with his blade.

The bandit hadn't even heard anything behind him.

The sword dug in hungrily, tearing through metal, leather and flesh as if it were all cloth. The sword passed through the torso of the man, coming out the other side soaked in blood. The man fell over with hardly a cry. His body, from the waist up, skidded on the ground, landing a small distance from his legs and lower torso. He was already dead by the time his two halves came to a stop.

All looked on in a stunned, unmoving silence. The other highwaymen were dumbstruck by the gruesome scene they had just been witness to. The dwarves atop the wagon were hooting their admiration of the blow. Bugoron and Icedea looked to each other, then back to Roddie in amazement. Willow turned, looking over at the man, shorn in half by a single swing from her childhood love.

Roddie threw down the blade, running over to Willow. He dropped to his knees, taking her gently by the shoulders with his hands, "Willow, are you alright?"

The woman looked blankly at Roderick, still unable to speak. She simply slumped forward, into his arms, and cried. He held her close, not saying any more, and looked over to the others.

Bugoron look into Roddie's eyes a moment before turning to the bandits, "Unless you would all like to meet the same fate as your comrade over there, leave now!"

The men were quick to oblige. The two who had been frozen by Bugoron's prayers had been released from their entrapment, and had joined their fellows. They all scattered in numerous directions, getting as far away from the group as possible.

After the highwaymen had vanished, Bugoron and Icedea walked over to Roddie and Willow, "Is she alright?" asked the priest.

Roddie nodded, "I believe so..."

The half-elf continued, "Just what happened there, Roddie? I've never seen anyone strike a blow that devastating before. I realize you have great strength, but I never believed even _you_ could accomplish that!"

The swordsman shook his head, "I'm not sure, to tell the truth. I just remember seeing Willow in danger, and I suddenly felt as if my strength had increased tenfold..." he looked down at the ground, where he had dropped his sword, "and the sword, the gem in the hilt was glowing red..."

The half-elf looked at the sword. He looked at the runes on the length of the blade again. _...amplify...self..._

Bugoron began to make some assumptions as to what the enchantment on the sword was. It seemed the sword had the ability to increase one's strength and speed based on the emotional state of the wielder. A powerful weapon, indeed, he thought to himself. His thoughts, though, were interrupted by a shout from behind, "Ah'm fer believin' we owe yeh fellas a big thenk yeh!"

Bugoron and the others turned to see the two dwarves from the wagon walking over to meet them. The priest met the two with a bow, "You're most welcome, sirs, I'm just glad we were able to find you in time to be of any help to you."

One of the dwarves nodded to him. He looked to Bugoron with dark blue eyes and a thick set of eyebrows. His face was set with wrinkles, though they were more work wrinkles than ones of age. His hair and beard were a pale red color mixed with some small spots of grey. The dwarf offered a short arm, and a thick hand to the half-elf, "Name's Golmer Granite-Arm, tha's meh brudder, Gimbur," he nodded to the other dwarf, who offered a similar hand to the priest. Gimber seemed younger than his brother, his face less wrinkled, but not less hearty. His hair was a dark red hue, and he wore a gold earring in his left ear.

Bugoron took Golmer's, and then Gimbur's, hand, shaking them, "Well met, friends."

Golmer looked back to the wagon, where the bodies of the other dwarves were still left, unmoving. He frowned, "Taked us by sup'rise, th' did. Lost good friends, an fer what? Nothin!"

The cleric frowned, kneeling slowly. The others could hear uttered words part from Bugoron's lips, as he offered up a prayer to Selune, asking Her to guide the souls of the dwarves' fallen friends safely to their respective Lords. He then stood, "I am very sorry we could not find you sooner..."

"S'alright, yeh did wha' yeh could, an' we's thankin' ye fer it," replied Gimbur. "We still 'ave teh make it teh Shadowdale an' deliver these goods, cannae be turnin' back now, we'd be defilin' our brudders an' their sacrifice."

Roderick came forward, "At least allow us to escort you the rest of the way to –"

"Bah! Be none o'that!" interrupted Golmer, "Ye folks are goin' the other way, and ye'll be goin' that way when we leave. Ye've done more than enough for us, an' don't ye doubt, we'll be repayin' ye for it sometime later!" The dwarf's mouth widened as he grinned.

Bugoron smiled weakly, "If that is what you wish, then we will do as you request. Please be safe on the rest of your journey." With that, Bugoron began chanting a prayer, and laid protective wards over the dwarves and their wagon.

Gilmer went over to the wagon and rummaged around until he found a long, slender sword. The blade gleamed brightly in the sun, looking as though it was only forged days before. The dwarf came over to Roderick and handed him the sword, "Ye be givin' that teh the girl fer somethin' teh fight with, that's a dangerous game she were playin' back there!"

Roderick admired the sword, so light to hold and perfectly balanced. The metal was mithril, the metal so synonymous with the dwarven race. He smiled, "I shall ensure she can handle her blade as well as I can handle mine own."

Gilmer grinned, "Good, I'd like teh be seein' her cutting fellas in half!"

After some hearty handshakes, the dwarves were off on their route towards the Dale. The group watched them trundle off down the road.

Icedea smirked, "A shame those two weren't taller..." she whipped her staff behind her back, lashing it in place, "They might have been quite the catch." She winked.

Bugoron turned to Willow, who had now regained herself, "Are you alright? What happened back there, did you injure yourself?"

Willow shook her head, "I'm so sorry, I just...I saw one of the bodies with a bolt in the chest and..." she trailed off.

Bugoron sighed, feeling sorry for the poor girl, "I know it's hard, Willow, and I know you loved him, I've seen it far too many times, but Douglas has gone on to a better place, he would not want you to be like this, he would want you to be strong..."

Willow seemed to take the cleric's words to heart, "You're right...you're absolutely right." The girl looked as though she had come to some great epiphany, and had finally become stronger from the loss of her father. Or, perhaps, she had just come to realize the danger she could have put her allies in with her carelessness. She held her head high, and looked Bugoron straight in the eyes, with a look that gave the half-elf hope, "We must get going, for there is no time to waste."


End file.
